The frugal gourmet: credit crunch survival guide

Published on Monday 18 August 2008 19:42

As the credit crunch inspires increasing numbers of us to shop at discount supermarkets, Claire Black takes Michelin-starred chef Tony Borthwick to see if the German chain can come up with the goods for a gourmet dinner

TAKING one of Scotland’s leading chefs shopping in a discount supermarket is a bit like taking a fashionista to an outlet store, or a vegan to a burger joint. There are raised eyebrows, curled lips – even abject horror – but, in these days of credit crunching, rising inflation, and a stalled housing market, we’re having to spend more wisely.

According to the Office of National Statistics, food inflation has reached a record high of 13.7 per cent, up from 10.6 per cent in June. That’s mainly due to increases in the cost of meat, but there have been rises in bread, cereals and potatoes too.

The site mysupermarket.co.uk, which compares prices at Tesco, Asda, Sainsbury’s and online supermarket Ocado (Waitrose), recently carried out a survey of 24 staple products, which showed the average family is now spending roughly 20 per cent more on weekly food shopping than 12 months ago. That means if you spend 100 a week on food, you’ll need to find an extra 1,020 a year.

Armed with my trusty statistical knowledge and the fear that comes from knowing I have to cook a meal for four friends, I’m drafting in expert help. I meet Tony Borthwick, head chef and owner of The Plumed Horse, at his Leith restaurant to take him shopping. Where? To the chi-chi delis and wine shops dotted around The Shore? No chance. We’re off to Lidl.

“I don’t often shop in supermarkets,” Borthwick says. “I mean, for the restaurant we have to be sure the ingredients are top quality and absolutely fresh. I won’t even buy a box of celeriac from the wholesalers. I might buy one on a Tuesday and one on a Thursday, just when I want to use them.”

Doing my best to reassure him – although celeriac isn’t often top of my shopping list – I’m sadly not that convincing. Borthwick must sense this, because he starts to reassure me, telling me one of his chefs is German and she shops in Lidl all the time.

“She brought me in some chocolate the other day to taste and it was really good gear,” he says. And he’s shopped in both Lidl and Aldi in Germany where, being a self-proclaimed “wine snob”, he was most impressed with the eiswein, which was much cheaper than here. As my pound coin sets the trolley free and we enter the shop, I think I can safely say we’re both feeling optimistic.

So, what’s the plan? I’ve got to cook a dinner for six and want to see what Borthwick will come up with. I’m trying to persuade him to cook as well as shop, but so far he’s not biting. We’re only in aisle one so it’s early days and I’m hoping the lure of the fine produce will be enough to tempt him.

The aisles are stacked high and deep: there are the usual brands, as well as a few that are less recognisable. W5 cleaning products, for example, are German-made and now outselling some of the more familiar brands. Also on display are sandals, toolkits and what I think is motor oil. You won’t find that in Waitrose.

Market research company TNS Worldpanel revealed last month that Lidl and its rival Aldi are both enjoying a boom as middle-class shoppers hit the aisles looking for a bargain. Lidl’s sales for the 12 weeks to 15 June were up by 12.8 per cent. Marco Ivona, Lidl's marketing and press manager, acknowledges customer numbers are up, but he isn’t convinced the credit crunch is the reason.

“We do have an increase in shopper numbers, but it’s a very tricky thing to judge,” he says. “It might be that the same people are coming more often. We have seen an increase in footfall [the number of visits], but that’s been the case since we came to the UK 14 years ago. We’re not doing anything differently.”

There are 82 Lidl stores in Scotland, from Stranraer to Orkney. In Edinburgh there are already 11 and the company is building five new stores across the country. It’s obvious that business is good.

The theory that the customer demographic is changing is not something Ivona is very interested in, though. “We’re not exclusive,” he says. “We’re for everybody.”

Looking round the car park – hardly scientific, I’ll admit – it seems he’s right. There’s every kind of car here, from BMWs to bangers.

Back in the aisles, Borthwick has made a bee-line for the meat – largely Scottish and impressively affordable. I’m leaning towards two Scotch sirloin steaks for 5.49, but he has his eye on the steak mince, or perhaps the diced beef steak, which is a bargain at 1.95.

“Never mind Jamie Oliver feeding a family of four for less than a fiver with that poncey little fishcake,” he says, referring to a current Sainsbury’s advert. “In here we can get steak mince, fresh tomatoes, onion, garlic and pasta from Italy. We can really fill people up – and still for less than five quid.”

Borthwick wins – diced beef steak it is. “We’ll make a nice casserole with that. 1.95 – even I can’t get it for that wholesale. We can get fresh herbs and a bottle of wine,” he says, disappearing towards the fruit and vegetable section.

I’m now starting to believe that Borthwick never shops in supermarkets. He has no idea how to look after a trolley. He’s forever abandoning it in the aisles as he wanders off to find his next bargain. So, having taken charge of our vehicle, I follow him to the veg.

He has grabbed a bag of potatoes, a four-pack of garlic bulbs, a huge Savoy cabbage and two fresh corn cobs, which he reckons are the bargains of the day at 24p each. “These are really fresh,” he says, having a good sniff. “They’re absolutely lovely. Just boil these up, they’ll be so juicy and sweet. Lovely.” It’s like watching a child in a sweet shop. He also has fresh parsley and chives, a snip at 55p a pack.

The main course is sorted: beef casserole served with braised cabbage and fresh sweetcorn on a bed of mash. And pudding? A fresh watermelon, a punnet of blackberries from Kent and some Perthshire strawberries will be perfect topped with lightly whipped double cream and a touch of sugar.

Then we’re off to the checkout. As the groceries sail through, including a bottle of shiraz for 3.99 and a large carrier bag to take the lot home in, the total pops up: 18.51. A bargain. Even better, Borthwick has been impressed by the food. “I don’t care who you are,” he says, “you can save yourself a lot of money by coming to places perceived to be budget supermarkets.”

He’s already agreed to help carry the shopping home, so how hard can it be to get Borthwick to help me cook? Now that really would be a bargain meal…

As it is, I do the honours. I’m not sure the cooking is up to his standards – I drink as much of the wine as I slosh into the casserole – but the meal goes down a treat. No one guesses it cost less than 20, nor do I tell them. A chef has to have some secrets.